


A Soul's Confinement

by eddiekcspbrak



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Crude Humor, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Working title, going to have some really tense and horror/thriller elements further in, i might change the rating later on, i'll add to these tags as the fic continues!!, shitty parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-01-06 10:08:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12209079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddiekcspbrak/pseuds/eddiekcspbrak
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak had never left his house, and wouldn't until the day he died.He had long accepted his debilitating illness that kept him confined to these suffocating four walls; his mother, the smell of disinfectant and the sensation of pills travelling down his dry throat being his only companions.That is, until a particularly crude boy with ridiculous glasses and a massive trashmouth arrives next door.





	1. Eddie's Prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie's mind operates way too fast, and way too dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright guys, so this is kind of a short little prelude to get into the head of eddie kaspbrak a bit. next chapter will be the ~true start~ of the story, and i'm super excited for it! this might be a little choppy, bc this was the chapter i kind of wrote bits and pieces to before weaving them together when i decided i'd make it the prelude to a full fic.. sorry in advance!
> 
> just a note: this is based very loosely on the plot to Everything, Everything (2017)... based on one person with a debilitating autoimmune disease (SCID) that prevents them from going outside their home/sterilized environment, and a troubled new neighbor who moves in next door. I actually haven't seen the movie, so, as far as I know, that's where the similarities end.
> 
> enjoy! xx

_He had thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to get home, or he would be dead._

_Eddie’s breath was hitched, his head spinning and spinning and spinning until everything was blurry and he couldn’t tell down from up. He had to get home… he had to get inside those stuffy walls with the faded flowers on the wallpaper, the smell of antiseptic filling his lungs until he forgot what fresh air felt like. Or, perhaps he never knew. Still, he had to return. It was home or death; and the latter was threatening to overtake him._

Twenty-five.

_He stumbled forward, still unable to discern his direction. All he knew was that he had to move. **Keep moving keep moving keep moving keep moving…** His feet felt like blocks, weighing down the Jello which comprised his legs, his entire body fighting against his mind. _

_**Collapse… move… collapse… move…** _

Twenty.

_His ragged breathing slowly morphed into panicked whimpers as he dragged himself forward, barely able to stand as his lungs threatened to close altogether. His vision focused – it was for just a moment, but it was enough. His eyes locked onto his home – his ** ~~prison~~** world, fifty yards away – and suddenly was overcome by a newfound focus. Fifty yards.  Fifty yards, and he might live._

Fifteen.

_He wasn’t sure how he had gotten here at all. He couldn’t remember where he had been a few minutes ago, why he was outside of that house, outside pf the only place where the air wouldn’t kill him. Why he felt like every limb was about to fall off, like his eyes were slowly melting and his lungs disintegrating._

_**You have to stay inside. You’re fragile, Eddie, you know what will happen if you even think about leaving. Here, darling, it’s 5 o’clock, time for your evening medicine.** _

_His mother’s voice pierced through his mind: a shrill, demanding voice masked in that overbearing protectiveness. His head flew in every direction, trying to find her… nothing. He could swear she had been right there… she was always right there…_

Ten.

_He used his entire being to find his footing again, letting out a dull roar as he hoisted his body towards the building. He tripped and stumbled and nearly fell, but he kept going. He had to keep going._

Five.

_He couldn’t breathe. His chest was on fire, his mouth dry, his hair sticking to the sides of his head in sweaty strands. Tears welled in his eyes from the effort as his surroundings rapidly transformed from blurry to hazy._

_He was so close. He could see the crack in the front steps, the chip in the paint on his front door. But his world was caving in, everything going black. His whole body was turning into a giant weight, and Eddie was never good with heavy things. He collapsed just as he was about to take the first step onto the porch._

Three… two…

_Suddenly, the pain stopped. The dizziness and the tightness and the confusion… they were all gone. Everything was blissfully… black. An overwhelming euphoria took over him, and everything – everything that was always hammering and panicked and antsy – everything was still._

One.

* * *

 

Eddie’s eyes ripped open, a sharp gasp sending him into shuttering, gasping breaths. He grasped for something – anything – gripping at his comforter with all the force his small body could muster. He had long ago taught himself to awake from nightmares quietly – when he was a young boy, his dreams would culminate with a dry, frightened scream, forcing his mother to come running. She would panic for ten minutes, force about six different types of medication down his throat, then sit and coddle him roughly for another hour, until he faked he was asleep. He was twelve now, and was as experienced with the bad dreams as he was with every medication, every germ, every allergen… he certainly had taught himself to wake up quietly.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, forcing his breaths in at a slow, deliberate pace. In for one, two, three… hold… and out. He repeated this enough times to be able to open his eyes again, relinquishing his grip of the fabric to his sides as he let out one final, violent shudder.

He moved nothing but his eyes to read the hands of the clock on his wall: 4:42 AM. He sighed, running his hands over his face before shaking them out slightly, as though trying to release some tension through motion. It didn’t work. It never did. Still, he would continue to do it. Night after night, dream after dream. His mother’s voice pierced him again: _Consistency is key, Eddie. You know you need to stick to your schedule._

He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. It was as though his body and mind put up a brick wall, unwilling to subject themselves to another dream where he ran for his life but was always too slow, or where his skin melted from his bones, or where his eyes fell out and his lungs shriveled up to nothing. Dreams that stunk of death and decay, the very things he was so close to suffering… only a few inches of drywall away…

Eddie stood slowly, shorts sticking to his shaky legs with uncomfortable sweat. He shuffled over to the window and drew the curtains, tired eyes scanning the area. It wasn’t much to look at – his window faced the similarly modest (but certainly less sterile) house next door, behind which there was a large backyard, followed by extensive woods. His mother told him the family who had lived there since before he was born was selling the home, and apparently had just found a buyer. He thought wistfully of who would move there – maybe a young couple looking for a starter home, but more likely a small family with limited funds, just looking to make a living in Derry. Maybe they would have a kid his age… he smiled faintly at the thought of making a friend, of biking down the street with wind in his hair and laughter streaming through his throat.

 _Just dreams_ , he would tell himself. _Nothing that you’ll ever experience_. It would be just him and his mother forever, accompanied only by carefully-made meals, countless medications, his handful of comics, and the suffocating stench of disinfectant. He had accepted that a lifetime ago, his mother repeating to him that

_Eddie you can’t go outside you’ll get sick and die you won’t be able to breathe properly Eddie you need to stay inside where the air is safe and clean and you can take your medication and not become infected Eddie don’t open that window during the day so no one will try to convince you to come outside Eddie listen to your mother I know what’s best Eddie_

If the new neighbors included anyone his age, he would be destined to simply listen, to strain and try to hear what having a normal life might have been like. It was his imagination that carried him, that kept him from shutting down entirely. Not that he would ever tell Mother – for all she knew, he was perfectly content and grateful for her constant eye. He would never dare defy that – in fact, he had literally never thought of it. In his world, that was how things were supposed to be; his awareness of anything different was nonexistent. He was too small and delicate and fragile and could so easily _break break break in half..._

He bit the inside of his cheek as he drew the curtain closed, tying it securely for maximum coverage when the sun rose. His feet softly drew back to the bed, laying himself down gently as he stared at the ceiling, imagination reeling. A contrast between the suffocation of his dreams, he allowed himself to think about jumping in a lake, speeding down the street on a new bike, seeing a movie with friends… it was the only place he would ever experience it, where he could feel that unfulfilled swell in his chest and a fullness in his heart. He smiled lightly - a desperately sad thing - and he imagined on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys enjoyed! leave any comments below letting me know what you thought, what you liked/didn't, etc. i'm planning on releasing the next chapter tomorrow, so look out for that!
> 
> until then... xx
> 
> (P.S. follow on tumblr if you'd like, @eddiekcspbrak !!)


	2. The Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie is far too transparent, and Richie catches his first glimpse of his odd new neighbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO just as an FYI, Richie's parents in this story are a bit of a hybrid between the book and the 2017 film. like the book, his dad is a verbally degrading dentist, and, like the movie, his mother is a neglectful alcoholic. Also, if a couple references in this chapter don't make it clear, this story is based in 1989, just like the film.

* * *

 

The smell of cheap beer and must violated Richie’s nose as the car rattled over a speed bump, but he barely noticed it. It was a similar smell to his own home, so Richie felt no unease, only that familiar, tugging sensation of claustrophobia. His eyes darted around his surroundings, trees whizzing past at breakneck speeds as they crossed through an empty intersection; the Toziers weren’t moving far. Richie had lived in Derry his entire life, and his family wasn’t about to make the careful decision to up and move out of town now.

No - instead they were simply crossing town; his dad’s dental business slowly and dangerously dwindling, they were no longer able to afford their moderately large home, instead moving a bit further downtown. Richie had never seen the new place – of course the older Toziers wouldn’t _think_ to need something as trivial as their son’s opinion.

Richie silently mused about nothing in particular, an impatient leg bouncing rapidly as his whole body yearned to be back outside. Back out with Bill, with Bev, Mike, Ben… hell, even Stan. Maybe at the Barrens, the quarry, anywhere but here, in this hot car with two parents who may as well have been strangers to him. No words were exchanged in the stuffy sedan (save a few sharp words from Mr. Tozier to his wife about who-knows-what), but Richie was grateful for it. As much as his parents disinterest towards him hurt, he really couldn’t deal with any of his father’s harsh words toward him right now, as the air suffocated him and his body screamed that it just wanted to be _free._

He adjusted his glasses briefly, frayed tape scraping at his fingers lightly, as though reminding him that

_you’re still here richie you haven’t been forgotten your friends are out there you’ll see them soon they remember you you’re still here despite your parents you are here you’re still here you exist **you’re here**_

He let out a miniscule breath, so horribly quiet compared to his nature around what he considered his real family. _Oh, Trashmouth Tozier, how the mighty fall when their parents remind them of how truly small they are._ The car suddenly slowed, prompting Richie’s wandering eyes to lift once more.

The home was smaller than his old one for sure, faded white paint wrapping around the building as though it was just barely clinging on. The door was a bright red, popping out uncomfortably against its subtle surroundings (it seemed to have been the only thing that was newly painted, oddly enough). The small front porch was a splintering wood – not haggard, but not exactly brand new, either. The lawn was a bit overgrown, vines and weeds gobbling up the lower foot or so of the house’s foundation.

Richie had barely noticed that his parents had already climbed out of the front seat, lumbering to the trunk to retrieve the remainder of their belongings (the U-Haul had already transported their larger furniture much earlier this morning). He jumped slightly as the trunk latch was lifted loudly, letting in a sudden burst of summer air, viciously reminding him of what he _could_ be doing right now.

That thought was violently shut down at the sound of his father’s voice from behind him. “Let’s _go_ , Rich, we don’t have all damn day.” Richie’s swallowed a lump down his throat harshly; the vague venom in his father’s voice was the most familiar thing about the man, and Richie’s reaction was always quiet, under the radar. He pushed his car door open, pulling out his two bags behind him – a backpack with school supplies and miscellaneous items, the other – a larger, faded duffel bag – carrying his clothing and toiletries. His eyes darted around the neighborhood briefly, which brought a new point to his attention – every house around them was clearly bigger and more well-kempt than theirs. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling, but one he was long used to feeling for entirely different reasons.

His parents pushed past him, carrying a couple bags on each arm. As they ambled up the walkway, his father peered back at him, eyes dark. “There’re two more bags in the back. Make yourself useful.” And, just like that, the older man strode up the front steps, through the front door, and disappeared with his wife in tow. As terrible as their relationship was before, his father was constantly on edge now as his dental practice teetered on the brink. He would constantly take it out on the boy, words growing harsher and crueler by the day. Luckily, today, he seemed to be more dully contemplative than out for blood.

Richie wrestled with the two remaining suitcases in the trunk, closing the hood before stumbling up the short walkway. He juggled the three total bags in his arms, added to the weight of his backpack, as he stepped carefully up the porch steps. He glanced to his left and right, the modestly attractive houses to each side looming over him menacingly. He looked down and took a breath, before creaking the door open.

* * *

 

The sound of a car coasting over pavement was like melancholic music to his ears. Eddie glanced up instantly from his comic (he had read the same one at least twenty times since his mother had first brought it home years ago), tilting an ear across the room to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

The couple who had lived there before were an elderly pair, so the sound of a car pulling in and out was scarce (save when they were being visited by younger family). Eddie wasn’t quite sure what had happened to them, but he had long learned not to ask about the outside world. Instead, he would observe. See, but not be seen.

Eddie picked his small body up from the old wooden chair, shuffling carefully over to the only window in his room, facing the home beside them. The curtains were tightly drawn – for some reason, his mother insisted on him not being seen too much… something about resisting temptation and preventing too much curiosity from the outside word. For his mother, the fewer people who knew about Eddie, the better. So here he was, left in his bedroom to live and wither and die. Sure, he was allowed into the rest of the house for little bits of time, but only when allowed and (very) carefully supervised by Sonia Kaspbrak.

He carefully fidgeted with the tie which held the curtain shut, being careful not to allow them to swing open wildly. The fabric was hot in his hands from the summer sun, caressing his fingers welcomingly. He brought the curtains open _just_ so, only allowing enough space for one eye to see through. His eyes traveled from the house across from his room, down to the left, where he spotted a couple emerging from the car.

He allowed himself the luxury of drawing the curtain back a little further, now allowing both eyes to examine the scene. They were middle age – perhaps the same as his mother – and seemed to be carrying matching grim faces. The woman was slightly disheveled, and the man looked stern, slamming the car door behind him a bit too loudly. Eddie let a sigh escape his lips; they appeared to be just like any other closed-off couple in Derry. As they pulled their bags from the trunk, Eddie almost closed the curtain again, but something stopped him. The man barked a few words to what seemed to be another person in the back seat. Seconds later, another, smaller figure emerged: a boy. His face was similarly grim, but seemed to tell something else as well, but the distance between them was too great and Eddie couldn’t pinpoint it.

The boy had a head of black hair, long and unkempt, with a set of thick-rimmed glasses that took up nearly half his face. His skin was pale, almost as pale as Eddies, but his limbs were longer – it was clear he would grow to be quite tall down the line. He wore a Hawaiian button down, open over a plain white shirt, worn jeans and converse dressing his lower half. Eddie couldn’t put a finger on the boy’s age, but he estimated it must’ve been somewhere around his own.

He watched carefully as the boy lumbered up the walkway, struggling with bags that were clearly too much to handle. Eddie felt an undoubtedly silly urge to run downstairs, out into the real summer air – the air which he had never experienced – and help him. So ridiculous, he literally let out a small, pathetic chuckle to himself. Just as the other male disappeared behind the door, he was jerked out of the scene in front of him by his mother’s shrill yelp.

“Edward! You get away from that window _right now!”_ she hissed quietly, as though careful to ensure no new neighbor could catch a word of conversation. She suddenly gripped his small arm roughly, the smell of sanitizer and disinfectant lacing her fat fingers (she always had a couple bottles of each stationed on both sides of his door to coat herself with before interacting with him). His eyes were worried, but he bowed his head in submission, quickly stepping away from the window as his mother hurriedly tied the curtain back up tightly. She turned back to him, eyes wild, her massive chest heaving from her short sprint from his door to the other side of the room.

Eddie instinctively shrunk away from the woman, who outweighed him by _at least_ two hundred pounds, and had a protective temper to match. His eyes didn’t meet hers – instead, they were trained on the floor, instant regret washing over him. Over the years, he found that was what calmed his mother the quickest – a sorry and overtly submissive son. It seemed to work moderately well this time around; she grabbed his arm once more, but this time less roughly as she led him away from the window and pushed him lightly so he sat on his bed.

“Edward, we have _talked_ about this. Those people could’ve _seen_ you,” she spat the words through gasps as though she was saying they could’ve _kidnapped_ him, could’ve _broken_ him, could’ve _killed_ him. In her eyes, perhaps, they were the same – and, since she was all the boy ever knew, the same ideas were implanted in his own mind as well.

He nodded his head solemnly, murmuring out a few quiet, instinctive words. “Sorry, mommy. I know. I won’t do it again.”

The larger woman sighed heavily before letting out a curt, grim nod. “Dinner is ready downstairs. I was going to bring it up, but, because of the… _circumstances_ , perhaps it would be best for you to eat downstairs with me tonight.”

He didn't even realize how he looked. The disappointment hit him in one steady wave - he was hoping to at least maybe see the family leave their home once more, to imagine what they might be like, to imagine having a friend like Glasses. It showed in his face - he never was a great liar - as his lips pursed slightly and his eyebrows lowered. All of it made for one very dispirited boy. He should have known to have been more careful.

She suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm once more, pulling it to her as Eddie pulled in a surprised gasp of air, stumbling as he was yanked off the bed. "Come on, Edward," she chirped shrilly. "It's going to get cold."

* * *

Richie laid in his bed quietly, the sound of his Walkman flooding his ears. His bed had been moved into his new room already, along with his dresser and desk (which now only held a single lamp and both of the bags he had brought today, both spread open and spilling contents all over its wooden surface. He had hung a few posters - particularly from horror movies: _The Thing, The Shining,_  and  _Gremlins_. Besides that, though, he hadn't done much in the four hours since he had arrived to make this place feel any homey-er. That was never a word he had associated with whatever house he lived in with his parents, anyway. He knew it would never be a comfortable place, a place where he felt safe and wanted. So he wasn't going to waste his time playing at it. Instead, he had immediately biked over to the quarry, where the Losers had been hanging out since noon. He had finally gotten there at the tail end of their excursion, so he was forced to bike home a mere hour later when the group began to split up. He had cracked an incredibly inappropriate joke to mask the disappointment ( _you are an absolute pro at that, Trashmouth Tozier_ ), before returning to the darkness of his new place.

So here he laid, eyes wide open as loud rock music hammered against his eardrums, The Rolling Stones singing to him, distracting him, freeing him for those three minutes. Laying flat on his back, he brought his hands up above him and closed his eyes as he imagined a pair of drumsticks. Hammering away clumsily, he drummed to the beat wildly, forming the beats with his mouth. As the drum solo ended, he shifted his gaze to the right - he had strategically placed his bed next to his rooms only window, which showed off the now-darkening time - and nearly jumped out of his skin from a pair of unexpected eyes on him.

The view from his window directly hit the window that sat on the side of the home next door. They weren't mere inches away, but the distance wasn't that far, either - Richie would, during later days, be able to make out very fine details about that room, and who occupied it. But, for now, he was ripping the headphones off his head in surprise, letting out a curt gasp. "What the fuck," he muttered, as he struggled to steady his heart rate.

There was a boy glancing out the window toward him, who immediately turned his attention away as soon he noticed Richie's awareness of him. He noticed the boy's suddenly panicked expression as he struggled with the curtain that skirted along the edged of the window - even from here, he noticed the other boy's breath hitching in his chest as it rose and fell heavily. Richie didn't look away - instead, he simply sat there, wide eyes magnified through his thick-rimmed glasses, mouth slightly agape. _God, this kid was acting really fucking weird._

Suddenly, a grin broke out on his face: Trashmouth had worked his way back up to the surface. He raised his hand towards the other male, parodying a wave, dramatic and overly-friendly as his grin grew. The other male caught sight of this out of the corner of his eye, suddenly ceasing whatever mess was happening with the curtains. Instead, he simply stared with a furrowed brow and wide eyes as Richie just kept on waving. Suddenly, he dropped his hand, mock offense sweeping over his face. He lifted his own eyebrows, motioning faux-disappointment that he hadn't received a wave in return.

The other brunette simply stared for another moment. _Man_ , his eyes were big... Richie could make out their color of brown, even with the sun rapidly setting and the slight distance between them. Without adjusting the look on his face, the other boy lifted his own hand awkwardly, and it was then that Richie saw just how thin he was. The kid was tiny. He gazed at the boy - more than a little amused at how awkwardly the other's presence radiated - who finally let his arm fall. Just then, Richie could see the faintest smile on the other boy's lips as he reached for the curtain again, much more calmly this time. As the fabric dropped and completely blacked out the room and the other boy, Richie dropped to his back again, and suddenly realized two things.

First, this boy _definitely_ did not go to his school.

Second, there was something delightfully strange about his new neighbor, and he was going to figure out _exactly_ what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > says i will post something by a certain point  
> > posts it 3-4 days late
> 
> I'm so, so sorry about the delay, guys! This one took a while to put together. I had actually intially written a thousand words, only to realize it was actual shit and completely scrapped it to start over. For some reason, things just weren't weaving together very smoothly in my head, which is often the case for me in the first chapter or two of stories in which introductions are needed. So I apologize if some of this doesn't run off the tongue as smoothly as it could ~
> 
> Also, I think the chapters, from here on out, will mostly be from only one point of view each, and it will generally be Eddie's (although Richie will have his fair share). But I wanted to get a bit of Richie's thoughts & family in, as well as Eddie's first seen interactions with his mother, so that y'all could catch a glimpse of background. I've already started the next chapter, which is when we're really finally gonna hit the ground running.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me, and the kind words so far!! 
> 
> xx


	4. Quick Update

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lil update for you all

I just wanted to let you guys know that I haven't forgotten about this fic! Life came at me REAL fast and I have been virtually unable to get a moment to myself, much less to write a decent chapter. However, now that winter break has arrived, I will have a lot more time, and I'm having real fresh Reddie inspiration, so I will begin working on the chapter tonight... I'd expect it in the next 2-3 days, tops!

Side note, I have a full-length stranger things fic brewing as well, so, if you're interested, look out for the first chapter of that in the coming days as well!

Thanks so much for the kudos and comments you guys have left in my absence. Much, much appreciated.. talk to you all soon!

xx 

(As always, if you'd like to check me out or contact me on tumblr, I'm @possessedwill ~)


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